The elation from acquiring the clay pot didn't last long. Reality's coldness seeped back through the slightest improvement. Although A Lie's harassment had become more subtle due to the priest's intervention, it never ceased. The quality of the materials delivered fluctuated wildly, like unpredictable weather, testing Gu Liang's nerves and craftsmanship.
Greater pressure came from within himself. Prolonged malnutrition and a state of constant mental tension began manifesting physically. He grew more easily fatigued, occasionally experiencing mild dizziness.Worst of all, minor wounds from handling game and the daily friction of working leather on his palms, exacerbated by damp and unsanitary conditions, began to show signs of redness, swelling, and even pus.
Sepsis.
The word pierced Gu Liang's heart like an ice spike. In this world without antibiotics, where even alcohol disinfection was a luxury, a wound infection meant far more than pus and pain. Once bacteria entered his bloodstream, high fever, shock, organ failure... what awaited him would be a death slower and more certain than any beast's fangs.
He tried rinsing it repeatedly with clean water, but it did little good. Pain and a low-grade fever began to plague him, robbing him of sleep at night and severely hampering his work efficiency during the day.
He dared not speak of it. If discovered to be physically weak, potentially unable to continue producing quality hides, would the priest's protection still stand? Would A Lie pass up this chance to strike?
He could only grit his teeth, fighting the physical discomfort and creeping panic with sheer willpower. Each time he rubbed the leather, the pain in his palms felt like ice-cold needles piercing his bones. Cold sweat beaded on his temples, and his face grew paler by the minute. The apprentice who came to collect the hides seemed to notice something, his gaze lingering a few seconds longer on the swollen, pus-filled palms. Yet he remained silent, simply gathering the hides and leaving.
The next day, when the apprentice delivered the materials, he placed a small bundle of dry herbs with a peculiar bitterness beside the usual items.
"Crush it. Apply it." The apprentice uttered four terse words before turning to leave.
Gu Liang froze, staring at the unfamiliar bundle. Instinctively, he asked, "What... is this?"
The apprentice halted but did not turn back, merely muttering indistinctly, "To stop rotten flesh." With that, he strode away.
Gu Liang picked up the bundle, bringing it to his nose. A potent, bitter scent assaulted his nostrils, carrying a faint, chilling undertone. Was this the priest's instruction? He recalled the elderly female beastman responsible for treating the wounded—she often used various herbs.
Had the priestess noticed his wound worsening and offered aid to protect her "asset"? This thought brought him slight relief, yet also a bitter tinge—his worth, after all, depended entirely on these hands.
Following the instructions, he crushed some of the herbs. The green juice mixed with the crushed leaves emitted an even more intense bitterness. He carefully applied the paste to the red, swollen, pus-filled wound. After a sharp sting, a genuine cool sensation followed, seemingly temporarily suppressing the burning pain.
The initial effects of the herb brought him some relief, but his inner unease remained unabated. He knew nothing about the plants of this world and couldn't judge whether this herb was truly safe and effective. His body's weakness and the pain from his wounds persisted, while a low-grade fever left him alternately chilled and feverish at night.
One evening after work, he curled up in a corner of the leather shelter, leaning against the cold stone wall, trying to draw a little coolness to ease the burning heat on his forehead. In his daze, he felt an unprecedented loneliness and helplessness.Fragments of memories from modern society surfaced like scattered shards: clean water, white hospital rooms, his parents' concern... forming a cruel contrast to the filthy, painful, and perilous reality before him.
Soft footsteps approached the shelter entrance.
Gu Liang opened his eyes warily. Through blurred vision, he saw a tall, agile figure standing silently there—Emma.
She didn't enter, merely standing at a distance. Her gaze fell on his hand, still swollen and red beneath the herbal poultice, and on his pale, haggard face tinged with an unnatural flush. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. A fleeting, complex emotion seemed to flash through her light brown pupils—like an assessment, yet tinged with... frustration?
[System Alert: Target Gu Liang's physical condition has deteriorated. Wound infection accompanied by low-grade fever. Survival risk level elevated. Current rudimentary herbal treatment only slightly suppresses symptoms; cannot cure. Host intervention recommended to prevent asset loss.]
Gu Liang struggled to sit up straight but swayed from weakness and dizziness.
Emma remained motionless, silent. She simply watched him for a few seconds before shifting her gaze away, seeming to settle on the pile of wood ash mixed with special resin in the corner of the shed—the very material he had previously attempted to use to plug the leak.
Then her gaze swept over the dried bundle of "flesh-healing herbs" left in a broken clay bowl beside it.
She shook her head almost imperceptibly, so subtly it might have been a trick of the light, her eyes fixed intently on the bundle. Then, her fingers moved almost unnoticeably—not toward Gu Liang, but first pointing faintly at his medicated hand before swiftly and decisively gesturing toward the puddle outside the hut. Finally, she made a quick, decisive "pouring" motion.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6oJNkty05t
The entire sequence flashed by in the twilight, swift as a phantom.
After completing the gesture, she fixed Gu Liang with a deep, piercing gaze—sharp and icy, carrying what seemed like a warning, yet also a stern admonition.
Without another word, she turned and dissolved into the deepening twilight, as if she had never been there at all.
Gu Liang froze in place, his body numb with cold—not from the low fever, but from Emma's final look and gesture.
What did she mean? Rejecting the herbs the priest had given him? Telling him to wash them away with water?
Why?
A bone-chilling realization instantly pierced his mind:8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRpiJHiNEPs
Priest's medicine → Emma rejects it → Gestures to wash it off.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡA6KvpqzXDA
If the medicine was fine, why did she reject it?8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqyiXpJCLcO
If the medicine was problematic... Was the priest trying to harm him? No, these hands were still useful to the priest. Then could it be... the medicine itself was flawed, and the priest was unaware? Or perhaps Emma wanted to use his hands to prove the medicine was faulty?8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKG2QPJDdtt
Either way, this medicine couldn't stay on his hands any longer!
A wave of terror washed over him! He stared at his hands, still covered in the herbal paste. What had once offered a soothing coolness now felt like deadly poison!
He scrambled to the puddle, frantically scrubbing the herbal residue from his hands with the standing water until his skin was raw and red, nearly breaking. Only then did he pause, gasping for breath, his heart pounding wildly.
Was Emma saving him? Or did she intend to use his hands to discredit the priest? Or was there some other scheme at play?
He couldn't tell. Emma's actions were like a fog—each time she seemed to offer guidance, she only pushed him deeper into confusion and unease.
After washing away the herbs, the pain from his wounds seemed to sharpen, a searing, burning ache. The low fever persisted. Yet the fear born of suspicion gnawed at him far more relentlessly than any physical torment.
That night, Gu Liang tossed and turned, unable to sleep amidst the cold, the pain, and immense psychological torment. The fragile bond between him and Emma—woven from dependence, gratitude, suspicion, and fear—had developed a clear crack due to this silent "warning."
He didn't know whom to trust. The priest? A Lie? Or this leader's daughter, whose actions were bizarre and whose motives remained unclear?
He could no longer stake his life on any thread of uncertain origin—be it the priest's "gift" or Emma's "warning."8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAzfsvhwh6c
In the coldest darkness before dawn, staring at that unfamiliar starry sky, Gu Liang made a decision harder than enduring pain: he would actively seek out one of the tribe's most mysterious and dangerous domains—the knowledge of medicinal herbs. Whatever the cost, he must acquire survival capital he could understand and verify.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡR5Lry34Sgn
The core of the survival game had shifted silently: it was no longer merely about exchanging value, but about seizing the right to interpret and control one's own life.8Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡynG6sF5RBA
The path ahead plunged into deeper fog, and the "light" in his hands that could illuminate this mist remained pitifully faint.
and then Add to home screen.